Dedicated to ktwriter_ for the beautiful cover.

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            The big top stood tall by the time I returned, secured by a myriad of ropes, its uppermost flag sailing amongst the clouds themselves. I was late by nobody's watch, but when I ducked under the flapping entrance and went inside, Silver seemed to be of a different opinion.

            She stood in the center of the ring, the trapeze equipment in place and dangling above her head. Pacing back and forth in a small region of the circle, she kept glancing pointedly down at her watch, as if this in itself would hurry me up. When we caught sight of each other, her expression both relaxed and contorted, leaving me wondering what exactly to brace myself for.

            "Corey!" she exclaimed. Her cropped hair was ruffled, the dark locks disheveled by many hours of hand-running since they'd been styled that morning. It had been Silver's signature look for as long as I could remember, and she always managed to carry it off with a sense of edgy elegance that nobody but her could muster. "Jesus, I was wondering if you were even going to show this afternoon."

            "Sorry. I, uh..." I paused, picking my words carefully. "I got caught up."

            "Hmm. Well. You're here now, and I guess that's what matters. We're down for first practice and Rhona's been staring daggers at me for the last half an hour. I felt like screaming at her. It's not like I can magically make you appear out of thin air, is it? I'm a trapeze artist, not a magician."

            My gaze trailed up to the stalls, following the direction of Silver's subtle nod at the mention of Rhona's name. Sure enough, there she was, about halfway up, surrounded by her permanent entourage of the other four performers. The aerial silk girls were the only ones who tended to stick within their private gaggle, isolating themselves from the rest of the circus. Rhona, the lead, was the worst of them all; petite, blonde, and three years younger than Silver, the pair never seemed to stop bickering.

            "But whatever. We've got fifteen minutes of practice time left, and I'm not about to waste it."

            Silver gestured toward the center trapeze, already suspended from the ceiling supports, hanging emptily in the middle of the ring. "Get on center and show me the lead routine."

            I froze, taken aback by the command. It wasn't what I'd been expecting – at least not today. Our group was a trio, composed of a lead and two back-ups. I formed one half of the latter, alongside the third member, Kendra, and it had been that way for years. Not only since my trapeze skills had been deemed performance-ready, but even in my earliest memories: when I was nothing more than an awestruck little girl, enthralled by the fluid movements of the trapeze artists. Over the last three years I'd grown used to the dazzling spotlights and sweaty palms of performance, but never as the lead. At any point in the show, I could always count on the fact that Silver would be in front of us, the back of her head in my line of vision. The alternative was a prospect too daunting.

            It had always been there, of course: the unspoken agreement that one day I'd take over, stepping into Silver's shoes. I'd been on pursuit of the day for years now, hungry for the chance to become what she was. But at that point it had been a distant thought, no clearer than a speck on the horizon. I'd not had the opportunity to thoroughly examine it, to test it out for myself. Now that it was really emerging, it seemed much too soon.

            "What about Kendra?" I asked, searching the ring for the familiar bottle-blonde curls of my partner. "Aren't we going to wait for her, or...?"

            "Never mind about Kendra." Silver's dismissal was quick, emphasized by a wave of her hand. "I need to know that you can do the routine. Which you can, of course. Just show me how it's looking."

            I exhaled slowly. "Uh, okay."

            It was strange that, after a three year cycle of alternating rehearsal and performance, I chose now to be nervous. Sure, there was the common case of jitters that swept through the entire cast before an opening night, but that was easily remedied by the glare of a spotlight or a round of applause. The audience I was now facing, though one-tenth of the usual crowd, still managed to be intimidating in its own right. Maybe it was Rhona and her cronies, looking on with an air of superiority from the stands, or just the fact that Silver seemed to be on the brink of a decision, and the performance I was about to give would tip her either way.

            I tried to calm myself down as I approached the trapeze, sizing it up for a few seconds before I dared to make my move. It was familiar, at the very least, and that was what I tried to focus on in order to calm my buzzing nerves. How many times had my hands encircled these same pieces of wood and rope? If it had been enough to toughen their layers of skin, easing the discomfort as I gripped hold of them with all my strength, surely I could put my trust into them one more time and relax.

            I kicked off my shoes, tossing them to the side, well out of the way. A hair tie around my wrist quickly slicked my dull brown hair into a ponytail, sweeping the flyaway strands away from my face. Then I took a running leap at the trapeze, launching myself into the air until my palms encircled the bar, swinging my feet upward to join them. Now I'd got started, there was no going back.

            The eyes of everybody in the room were trained on me as I dived headfirst into the routine, mentally playing the musical accompaniment in the back of my mind. I tried to envision Silver's confidence as I sat sideways on the wooden bar, my left arm twisted intricately around the rope. It was from that position that it all started: the routine that I'd seen from behind hundreds of times, pieced together from fleeting glances caught when my head was the right way up.

            I began coiling myself around the supports, stretching out my entire body and using the trapeze as a makeshift harness. It was a feeling that took some getting used to, but now I'd come to embrace it: that of being suspended completely in midair, supported by nothing but an undeniably flimsy piece of equipment.

            Once I got started, the movements began to arrive more fluidly, allowing me to smoothly transition from the first suspended trick to the second and all those beyond it. The image of Silver remained vivid in my head as I pulled myself into an upright position, my feet curling around the rounded bar, and bent forward into a seemingly impossible version of a leg extension. My upper foot instinctively looped around the rope, seeking to inspire a sense of safety.

            Toes pointed, chin up... there was barely time to remember these pointers as I jumped from one move to the next, matching the imaginary rhythm pulsing inside my head. Silver's eyes were focused on my every movement, analyzing with impeccable detail the position of every muscle, the way I held my head, the concentrated expression painted across my features. I pulled myself back into the seat of the trapeze, but there was no time to pause; extracting every sliver of exertion from my upper body muscles, I heaved my entire body weight upwards, forcing my legs straight into the air for a single agonizing moment. Then, they were falling back as quickly as they'd gotten up there, spinning my entire body back around with impossible speed.

            There was a breeze in my face, despite the fact we were inside. I could feel its refreshing caress lingering against my skin, which had already become sticky with a layer of sweat. It was exhausting work, that much I was well aware of, but the drawbacks of trapeze seemed to have a funny way of fading into the background. This rung particularly true in moments like these, when I was permitted to lose myself for a minute or two, plowing my sole attention into the elegance and composure I strived for. In these moments trapeze was the only thing that mattered, and I didn't want it any other way.

            The end of the routine was fast approaching, and that in itself brought the big finale. It was compulsory in the circus to go out with a bang, and the trapeze act formed no exception to the rule. Swinging myself back underneath the bar, arms stretched above me, I gathered all the momentum I could. There was no room for mistakes, especially not in the climax of the performance. Squeezing the last of the energy from my muscles, I propelled myself forward, forcing myself into a tight somersault before landing feet first on the mat several meters away. I froze like a statue in the end position, the trapeze swinging behind me.

            I'd expected applause, but there wasn't any. Instead, I was faced with the smile that had materialized across the width of Silver's face – which, on the whole, turned out to be a lot more satisfying.

            "Now, that," she began slowly, "that is what I wanted to see."

            It was the bare pride on her face that had me grinning: the almost misty glaze over her emerald-colored eyes, the smile I hadn't seen as wide since the day her fiancé, Jack, proposed to her. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say in response, so instead I kept quiet.

            A brief glance had my eyes heading toward Rhona for the briefest of seconds; she was looking on with an expression of poorly concealed jealousy. Even from my position in the center of the ring, I noticed her cat-like eyes were narrowed, as they often did when any of the three of us were present. I'd never managed to work out exactly what she had against the trapeze, but I had more sense than to ask.

            "Well, that makes it easy for me, doesn't it?" Silver continued, stepping closer. "You're on lead trapeze tonight. And, do me a favor?" she added, as an afterthought. "Whatever you do, just please smash it like you did just then."

            "Hold on, are you..." A mild wash of confusion had me stumbling over my words. "I mean, are you sure? I wasn't expecting it to be so soon, I only just—"

            She clapped a hand on my shoulder, cutting off my ramble. "It was going to happen at one point or another, right? I mean, you were always the one in the running to take over. I'm going to be retiring soon anyway – twenty-four's pretty much an old woman, isn't it? Now that I'm pregnant, I guess things are just going to be happening a little sooner."

            "I..." There was a momentary delay, but all at once her words hit me, the meaning truly sinking in. "What? Hold on, did you just say you're pregnant?"

            Silver smiled. "Just found out last week. Guess you're going to become the frontrunner sooner than you thought, huh?"

            The surprise was overwhelming, combining with my raggedy breathing to make it incredibly difficult to force any words out. "I don't know what to say. I mean, wow... congratulations, I guess."

            I guess she'd been about to thank me, or at least say something of the sort, but the moment was interrupted by the exaggerated throat clearing from somewhere across the room. "Excuse me," Rhona hollered, rising from her seat, "but I think you'll find that your practice time is over. It's our turn now."

            Usually, I had to brace myself for an argument any time they were in the same room, but Silver merely smiled. "It's all yours," she said breezily. "After that, I'm pretty confident we don't even need the practice."

            I half-wondered if Rhona would retaliate – she was never normally one to pass up the opportunity for confrontation – but her opponent didn't provide her with the chance. Silver turned back to shoot me another smile. "I'll see you in the dressing room normal time, okay?" Her eyes darted quickly behind me. "For now, I think Dave might be after your attention."

            Dave. The name sent a jolt through my chest, though the sensation was far from pleasant. He was as familiar as the circus itself, his scruffy appearance and muddy brown eyes as easily memorized as one of my trapeze routines. At nineteen, he was the only guy in the circus even remotely near my age. For that reason, it had been a kind of unspoken agreement for as long as I could remember that we'd get together eventually. The surrounding pressure, closing in on us from all angles, was sure to force us together if nothing else.

            Dave seemed to have no problem with this arrangement, but I differed. A childhood spent together had seen him become like my older brother, someone I'd always have a laugh with, but could never in a million years visualize myself dating.

            But this was the circus, and therefore options were severely limited. With no permanent location, we were packing up our belongings and leaving without a trace every couple of weeks. In such circumstances, outside relationships were an impossibility. Life on the road meant exactly that, and it was not to be complicated by the presence of tethers to anything – or anybody – outside the circus. There was no place for attachment, unless it resided within the walls of the circus tent. Only a chosen few could hack it, and we were among them.

            Despite my feelings, the decision had always been made for me. With the circus came Dave, and if I wanted one, I'd have to settle for the other.

            He sat at the edge of the ring, perched on the end seat in the front row. He was slouched forward, in his trademark carefree stance, muscles stretching his T-shirt sleeves. A familiar lopsided smile curled his lips while his eyes followed me.

            Silver had already taken off in the opposite direction, although not before shooting me a surreptitious wink. Now, alone in the ring, I was the only thing separating Rhona from her precious practice time, and there was nothing left for me to do but brace myself and start toward Dave.

            It wasn't that I didn't enjoy his company; I couldn't deny the two of us always had a laugh together. But with each day the wordless pressure seemed to swell, like I could feel everybody in the company looking on and wondering why we weren't together yet. As kids, it'd been fun, but the knowing smirks and air of impatience that now shrouded the two of us had done wonders to extract the simplicity from our relationship. I didn't want to get together with Dave, but dodging it didn't seem to be an option that'd stand forever.

            "You looked great out there," he commented, when I'd stepped into earshot, approaching the barrier at the edge of the ring.

            "Thanks," I said honestly. Instinctively, I reached up to run a hand through my hair, stopping once I realized it was still in the tight ponytail I'd pulled it into ten minutes beforehand. "I, uh... I didn't know you were watching."

            "'Course I was. After I finished setting out your equipment I couldn't resist sticking around to watch you practice. You were crazy good."

            "It was alright," I dismissed lightly. "I could've pulled off the somersault a lot better, but at least I landed on my feet and didn't break anything."

            He chuckled. "Well, not breaking anything's always a good result."

            I was peering up at him now, taking in his features with a finer attention to detail. It was impossible to count the number of times I'd found myself looking at the exact same face – countless occasions dotted throughout my childhood and beyond, stretching all the way up into this moment right here. Ten years seemed to have inflicted little change on his facial features, though I was sure my own must've shifted beyond recognition. His strong jaw had been prominent even as a boy, while the rest of his features had an almost lopsided quality about them. This was especially true for his smile, which had always been sort of goofy, but in a familiar rather than cute way.

            I wished there was some way I could force myself into feeling differently about Dave, but I couldn't. Though I didn't know how this would bode for the future, I'd taken to pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind, resolving to deal with them only when completely necessary.

            When I returned to the present, he seemed to have leaned in slightly closer, and I wondered how this had escaped my notice. "I never get tired of watching you perform," he said. "You really are an amazing trapeze artist, Corey."

            The tone of his voice was unnerving; I could feel my heart beating rapidly beneath my shirt. I dreaded these moments: the ones where I was so sure he was about to make a move. I didn't want to be thrust into the position where I'd have to turn him down, because it was sure to make things unbearably awkward for both of us.

            "I'm, uh... I'm really not that good," I said quickly, breaking the eye contact he'd established. "I mean, I'm okay. Nothing special." I forced a smile.

            Thankfully, he appeared to sense that the moment had passed, although the flash of disappointment in his eyes didn't go unnoticed. "Well, you've got more talent than me, at any rate. The circus only needs me for my muscle." He grinned and flexed, and all at once the tension shattered. My own laughter was full of relief.

            It was true; Dave was one of what we called 'the heavy guys'. There was an entire group of them – at least twenty – all burly men with muscles and at least one tattoo. Dave was no exception, though his ink was limited to one spiky design on his shoulder – miles more understated than some of the other guys. Together they were responsible for the heavy lifting and manual labor, all of which was required on a daily basis in some form or another. Even between the setting up and dismantling of the circus tent, they seemed endlessly busy, forever checking or changing some piece of equipment, or carrying heavy loads across the pitch. Dave had been born into the circus, and recruited as soon as he was old enough to work alongside his dad. My story was vaguely similar, but its beginning was much more complicated.

            "So, I was wondering," he began, "did you want to hang out tonight? How does late night pizza after the show sound?"

            Usually I would've accepted without thought, instilling confidence in the hope that Dave and I could remain friends without other complications. I was perfectly content with the way we were now: a simple friendship between two circus kids, our entire livelihood already shared. Sure, he was the only contender for a long-term relationship if ever I was seeking one, but I didn't have to think about that now.

            Now, however, something seemed inexplicably different. For reasons unknown, I found my thoughts absently backtracking to a couple of hours beforehand, zoning in on the boy I'd met at the diner. I couldn't pinpoint exactly why my mind chose now to dwell on his effortlessly charming smile, his genuine interest in the art of trapeze, the way every aspect of his appearance had resembled vague perfection. We'd clicked, plain and simple, and I couldn't deny the easy connection that had quickly established between us. I was plagued by the hope that I'd have the opportunity to see him again.

            For any other girl, living a normal life, I knew what a conversation like that would've marked the start of. It was the beginning of a friendship, something with the potential to blossom even further, given the chance. But the bottom line stood that I was not a normal girl, and the life I'd chosen to pursue came with its consequences.

            From a tiny age it was common knowledge that outside relationships were destined to fail. Those who dared to enter into them were headed towards one of two outcomes: to end up with a broken heart, or leave the circus entirely. We'd experienced the former a fair few times, but the latter only a handful. It was a decision always met with intense opposition, and ultimately unforgiveable disapproval. Those who fell in love with outsiders also fell into the trap, and the rest of us kept well away.

            I knew Luke could never be anything more than he was now: one conversation; a fleeting passer-by; someone I'd turn my back on forever in just two weeks. So why on earth had I found myself thinking about him during a conversation with Dave?

            "Corey?"

            I blinked, realizing I'd escaped into a daydream without providing an answer to Dave's question. "I, um..." Trying my best to push the image of Luke back into a dark corner of my mind, I forced a smile. "Yeah. Sure. Pizza sounds great."

            "Cool. I'll catch up with you later, okay? I'll be in the crowd, watching you smash it on that trapeze."

            "I'll try my best."

            He smiled. "Well, it's not like you need it, but I'll say it anyway: good luck tonight."

            And there they were again: those three words, spoken before we exchanged goodbyes. The same string of letters that had escaped Luke's lips, a good-natured gesture, virtually identical between them. In that one moment, just before Dave shot me a last goofy smile and turned to leave the tent, they were harmless. Luke's were, too. But only in that moment.

            They became ominous only when it was known exactly what tonight had in store.

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Lolol I think I've probably overdone it with the foreshadowing, but ah well. You'll be able to read about the opening night in the next chapter. So yeah. Few new characters in this. I'm very fond of Silver... Rhona, not so much, lol. But anyway, drop me a comment and let me know what you thought! I'm proud of myself for getting this done :)